Native Strong

RC Gorman ttps://rcgormannavajogallery.com/

Prologue

Arizona Territory May 1883

The dusty procession of tired cavalrymen rode in disciplined columns of twos as they headed back towards Fort Yuma. The setting sun cast a golden hue on their accoutrements and brass buttoned shoulder straps, the effect of which served to increased their martial bearing as they came within eye shot of the settlement. Their three day scouting mission had been largely perfunctory due to the approaching closure date of the fort which was to occur in less then a weeks time. Until that predetermined appointment the entire residential population of the compound would be feverishly endeavoring to transition this outlying post of Uncle Sam’s from a military asset to a civilian one. As the small column entered the unpretentious ramparts and came to a rest at what passed for parade grounds they saw a around them a kinetic hum of activity as soldiers, carpenters, mechanics, store clerks, laborers as well as newly arrived missionaries and civil servants were milling about the grounds in a concerted effort to effectuate the change over.

Two of the arriving soldiers, both of them noncommissioned officers dismounted from their horses and led them on foot by their bridles with the intention of visiting a small cantina located on the other side of the fort. One of the men who looked to be about ten years older then his comrade turned to the rest of the column and addressed a corporal who was still mounted along with the other men. Corporal, you get those mounts to the livery stables and tend to them. After that you and the men are dismissed. The young corporal saluted smartly then spurred his horse in a graceful pirouette and headed off with the others. The two horse soldiers continued to make their way through the hubbub of the open grounds of the fort eagerly looking forward to well earned rest and refreshments to be had at the cantina. One of the men, the younger looking of the two, spotted a group of local native woman who were steadily rolling out wheat flour by the pound and filling up assorted muslin sacks with the bold letters U.S. stamped on the outside. While looking them over he noticed one of the younger ladies whom he thought to be especially attractive when compared to her peers. Some a them digger Indian gals sure are awful purty He said with a touch of lasciviousness discernible in his voice. I wonder wha’d it be like ta take one of ‘em for a whirl The other man nodded. That’s a fact fer certain but if your thinking a fraternizing with them redskins gals you’d better drop it. Orders are to keep clear of ‘em. The captain wants no trouble with the locals while we hand over the fort. Those people belong to the new bosses now. By that he referred to the new civilian federal administrators who were peremptorily giving directives throughout the grounds and had assumed titular responsibility for the local indigenous population. Captain says it’s from the top. So I wouldn’t even think on it. If yer gots to have yourself a woman go to them sporting ladies in the shack out back ‘a the compound. The other man grimaced and spat out a mixture of straw, dust and spittle over his shoulder. I had most a them dirty birds already...I could use a change a pace He winked at his partner then made a clicking sound with his tongue to spur on his horse that had been distracted by a mare in season across the grounds. C’mon big boy, no time for that now The other man smiled Two peas in a pod, the two a youse The soldier looked over his shoulder once more toward the group of working native women. His friend took further note. I’m telling you boy ...don’t mess with that, they’ll bust you The other man grinned. Don’t worry about me, I got the luck ‘a the Irish. He looked over at the flying colors at the pole in the center of the fort. When is reveille tomorrow? 12:00 o’clock noon. We get to have the morning free The man nodded and looked toward the canteen. Let’s wet our whistles brother" The other man likewise nodded at the agreeable suggestion and spurred on his own mount to hasten the walk to the cantina where the fatigues of trail duty could be doused in glasses of suds.

The group of Native women continued at the prosaic task of milling wheat flour for the army. They worked at quickened pace as they had been made aware of the approaching closure date of the fort and were striving to meet their assigned quota before that deadline. Among the group were younger ladies and girls, some of whom were daughters and nieces of the older ones. One of the girls seemed to stand apart in appearance from the others as her features were markedly distinguishable from the distinct Mojave valley attributes of her fellows. The usual oval face and and slightly rounded frame more common to woman of that band were supplanted by a slightly taller and leaner aspect while her face bore distinctly Caucasian features so much so that the very first sight of her gave one the immediate impression that she was not of any native race at all but a very exotic version of the white race. However her clay colored skin and almost shimmering dark hair would ameliorate that mistake as no white woman were known to possess such asiatic features. Moreover this racially incongruous affect was even apparent among her own people prompting some of them to have engaged in benign and sometimes spurious gossip. The girl looked up at one of the older ladies. Auntie, how long will we have to work like this? She said in the Quechen dialect. The older woman chided her immediately. Tisk girl, don’t speak our language here They don’t allow it She made the admonition in their native tongue albeit in hushed tones so as not to attract attention. We must speak the white language here at the fort . The girl shrugged. It is...difficult auntie. The older woman gave her a stern look that made a verbal response unnecessary. The girl signed lightly and looked over at a full container of flour sacs then turned back to the woman. I have the box... full, Auntie The older woman looked over then nodded. It is called basket, ok pick up the other one and put them on the long stick then carry them to the big room. Ok, Auntie. The older woman motioned for the girl to come near to her. The girl did so and the woman put her lips to the girl’s ear and spoke softly in their own dialect again. Remember Citlali, do not talk to the soldiers unless they talk to you first. And if they do then say as few words in their language as you can...you asked me before how long we will work like this. I tell you now the fort will be closed in a few days and our new overseers will take over and they are better then the army. So we will work like this until then. It will get better girl...trust me. The young girl nodded in acknowledgment and smiled respectfully to her elder after which she turned around and lithely lifted the filled baskets via the wooden rod then headed out towards the commissary room to deposit the supply of Govt. flour. She made her way through the open grounds of the fort carefully balancing the freighted containers across her robust shoulders. Her display of strength and agility while performing the strenuous task caught the attention of more than one person as she traversed the bustling courtyard.

Upon passing between two buildings which led to a smaller more secluded square she suddenly felt a hand fall upon her shoulder which startled her. She looked around and saw a hulking blue clad soldier standing beside her. In spite of his overall disheveled appearance and dust covered face she nevertheless found herself to be more fascinated than repelled by the rough look of the strange man, this due in no small part to the fact that she had never before been this close to a white soldier. The man smiled then using hand gestures bade her to put down her freight of flour sacs which she did reluctantly. You speak English girl? He said in a low but booming voice. The girl nodded diffidently. Yes...alittle He smiled Hmm, I see. Them missionaries don’t waste no time do they. They’re already taking over the place and learning you heathens our mother tongue. The man then recalled the memory of stern missionary wives he’d seen over the years as well as the current crop who were bandying about the compound with their fierce pinched in faces, hair tied up in tortured buns and austere clothing which covered them from their crowns to their toes. Juxtaposed to them were these enigmatic Native women like this very attractive young lady in her form fitting dress of cured animal skin embossed with exotic designs all of which were compatible with her lose flowing hair that seemed to evoke an otherworldly freedom. He realized why many of his soldier brethren found these woman so appealing. Moreover this particular young woman was even more exotic looking than the her sisters. My my ...you are a fine looking filly. said the man. I’ll bet my bottom dollar any two white woman out a three back in the civilized world would be jealous of you girl He brushed the back of his hand upon her hair which caused her to flinch. Relax young lady I don’t mean you no harm, I gotta niece about your age back in Saint Louis. She shook her head uncomprehendingly. You the George army? she said in a soft voice. He grimaced. George?...army?, yeah I’m in the army. I’m a soldier She nodded. You are of the George Army, America He squinted for a moment. You mean George Washington...George Washington’s army. She smiled. Yes the George Washington army. He smiled at her simplicity then chucked. Well at least you got your history right baby sister, but George Washington’s been gone a long time now. He was before my time. She shook her head. A long time yes He stepped forward and looked more closely at her. I think those holy Joes and Janes at the mission gotta be teaching you some more history lessons girl...but that’s their job ain’t it. He caressed her hair again which she didn’t resist as much as before sensing he would be upset if she did so too assertively. She’d heard the stories of native woman who’d resisted white soldiers too assertively.

He turned around and saw a retaining wall behind them. He tuned back to her. Say why don’t you and I just sit a spell over there by that wall. Maybe I can teach you some more English and you can teach me some of your language. The young woman only partly understanding acquiesced to his request. She picked up the the load of flour sacks and followed him over to the crumbling wall and at his behest and sat down not too far from him. He continued to look her over admiring her natural beauty. I gotta say I ain’t never seen a red woman as purty as you gal. Look at you. He reached over and again manipulated her hair running his fingers all the way from her ear lobes to her upper waist to where it extended. He sensed her increasing discomfort and temporarily withdrew his hand . Ok young Miss, tell me your name. She squinted slightly. Your name? She then nodded in comprehension and pointed to herself. My name He nodded. Yes, your name I am Citlali... she said. He grinned. That’s a queer one, Citlali... She nodded. Yes, Citlali...ciiit laaa liii He nodded again, this time with a slight touch of formality. Well thank you Mam. I’m Wilber but I’m called Will for short. She attempted a polite smile then looked back down at her neglected freight of flour sacks splayed out on the ground, after which she suddenly remembered her now neglected chore. I must to go...finish work. She said with a tense voice. Must to give flour to the room. He nodded. Ok missy, I know you gotta do your chores, but before that I wanna ask you something She looked uncomprehending at his words yet maintained her polite smiled which masked a growing anxiety. I must to go give flour at the big room. She attempted to get up on her feet but as she did so he got up along side her and positioned himself between her and the open yard so that her view of it was obscured. Please, I must now to go she said in a conciliatory tone. He smiled and moved closer to her. You are such a sweet little thing She momentarily froze in indecision. I...must to go. she repeated once again, however this time her demeanor and tone of voice couldn’t hide the increasing discomfort she was feeling. The man seemed unaffected by this. First things first little lady. He said with a calm voice. He then began to run his hands over her upper body. You’re a lovely little wild thing. She stiffened at the feel of his touch having never before experienced anything like this and didn’t know how to react. She started to panic as she knew this was not something she wanted to happen. A wave of anger began to rise within her which eclipsed her reticence to resist his unwanted advances. No please, I must to go...I must take the box! She protested. Suddenly the man’s demeanor became less affable. His eyes narrowed and his voice assumed a frightening tone. You listen to me ...you’re not going anywhere till I’m ready. Now you take that buckskin off. Take it off now! Although she barely understood his words she perfectly understood his intent. Now fully motivated by fear of the man she submitted to his demand and let him slip her buckskins down beneath her shoulders exposing her naked upper body. He smiled. Look at you...what a beauty. He caressed her hair again then ran his hand down her frame until he reached just above her waste where her buckskin tunic folded over. His eyes widened with anticipation as he contemplated the prize he was about to claim, simply because he could. Similarly at this very moment the young woman recalled the history of her people...of many years before when they had made war with the blue soldiers and how after having been defeated they were treated by the victors. Old childhood stories came back to her, sorrowful stories of degradations, rapes and humiliations committed by soldiers like this one...like this one right here. A sudden and almost involuntary rage swept over the young woman prompting her put both her hands up against his shoulders. No She declared a resolute tone that surprised even her... No! He looked down at her hands that were now her only buffer between him and her body. He lost his condescending smiled for a brief moment and with an open hand slapped her full on the face causing her to recoiled from the force. You don’t ever tell a white man ‘No’, You hear that...you little Indian digger. Now you do as I say or you’ll regret it She stared at him with eyes dilated with rage. He regained his former patronizing smiled and began to work his hands up and down to her body; as he did so she went into a trance-like state which summoned visions of dancing warriors in her village. She remembered the otherworldly power and courage embodied in those ritualistic moves and haunting chants. She now felt that power and courage. In a burst of primal energy she slammed his groin with her knees as hard as she could while screaming out a facsimile of her village war cry. The man shrieked with pain but before he could retaliate she bit his nose so the man was entrapped and unable to continue punishing her without being visited with paralyzing pain. You digger whore! Let me go! He screamed. Goddam you bitch! I’ll kill you! His words were not idle threats because upon sensing her continued resistance he reached for his army pistol. The girl now realizing her life was at stake resolved to do whatever it would take to save herself. The man cleared the gun from its holster but before he could get off a shot she deflected the barrel so that it discharged harmlessly to one side. She then clenched down on the soldier’s nose causing him to scream in an almost unnatural pitch. He dropped the gun which she kicked away. Then realizing he’d be inclined to put his hands to his face if she released him, she did just that and took a slight step back. As expected he clenched his injured nose at which she forcefully shoved him backwards sending him careening on his back. She instinctively knew that the man would now be filled with a vengeful rage which would temporarily overcome his pain and enable him to recover his gun or chase her down before she could get away. She subsequently lifted up her foot and with all her might came down on one of his exposed knees effectively hobbling him so that he would not be able to run after her. She then kicked the gun even further away and sprinted away from there as fast as she could. The man now predictably bent on exacting a lethal revenge endured the searing pain on his face and knee and managed to roll over to his gun. Propping himself up on one elbow he fired off several shots at the fleeing figure of the young woman who executed a series of evasive moves as she ran. After missing each successive shot, the man was left with only two chambered rounds. Knowing there was one last chance to strike the fleeing target, he steadied himself, drew a careful bead and confidently pulled the trigger but just as he did so his head exploded in acute pain from the blunt force of a solid object which took him from behind. The effect of the mighty blow sent the man reeling on his side while also causing him to instantly drop the gun. Over the prone body of the dazed soldier stood the young woman’s Auntie who had wielded the young girls wooden rod like a battle club. She cursed the man in her native dialect then began thinking of what she would tell the fort authorities about what had just happened. She then looked up and was able to see her niece run past the main gates of the compound and head to the thick covering of trees and shrubs on the river’s edge. She knew the young woman would find temporary refuge there after which she could safely make her way to their village where others could effect the young woman’s escape to elude any pursuing parties bent on retribution. The lady nodded confidently and turned back to look down on the soldier as he got up from the ground while tending his wounds. A handful of his fellow soldiers followed by a duty officer arrived at the scene to inquire about what just had just happened. The woman, in purposefully broken English kept repeating the phrase Him attacks Indian girl Did you have a fight with this lady? said the officer to the man who was nursing his knee. He looked up at the older woman and shook his head. Well ...no it was He hesitated for a moment and remembered the warnings his colleague had given him earlier in the day. He looked over at the woman and the officer then shook his head. I don’t rightly remember what happened...I don’t recall. The officer, appearing somewhat perplexed, looked back over over at the woman. Mam unless you have anything more to say on it, you can go The lady conveyed a faint head shake and shrugged her shoulders. The officer nodded. Ok then He turned back to the injured man. Sergeant you come with me and make a statement. With that the little retinue of soldiers, with the injured sergeant limping from behind, marched away at a proper military cadence spurred on by the young officer’s attention to procedure. Meanwhile the woman went back to her work area where her colleagues waited anxiously for her to tell them what had happened. The woman evinced a slight smile of satisfaction spurred on by the thought that she had managed help save the young woman, her own sister’s daughter from a potential misfortune doled out by one of their captors. It was a misfortune that more than a few of her native sisters in past instances had tragically not been able to escape.

Later that evening the young woman, Citlali, walked briskly along the the river valley trail accompanied by two people of her community who were tasked with escorting her to another of a string affiliated settlements along the river basin. She had been assured of her safety if she ensconced herself within an anonymous pond of people and remained there until notified by the elders of her village that the danger had passed. The young woman was thankful for their assistance and support and she vowed that their efforts for her would be rewarded...that she would survive.

Esmerelda

Get your ass up!, Get your ass up!, Get your ass up! Get your ass...." The iPhone morning App repeatedly screamed out its highly unorthodox wake up mantra and was wholly indifferent to the delicate sensibilities of the futon bed occupant across the room. The somewhat remote distance separating the rousing sleeper from her mobile device was pre-arranged to eliminate any ‘snuff and snooze’ move on her part.

After about half a minute of this high decibel harassment, the teenaged female rousted herself and shuffled across the room to extinguish the offending sound. Having recently celebrated her 18th birthday, Esmerelda Little had determined to acquire more discipline in her life. Getting her ‘butt outta bed earlier’ was one of the lower rungs of the success pyramid which she figured needed honing...the more sublime bars of fame, fortune and riches could come next but first things first. Looking at her mobile phone inbox she saw a full load of incoming voice messages one of which made her wince because it was from her mother. Since it wasn’t her mother’s habit to send messages via any mode of technology higher than post-it notes the girl suspected there was an overriding reason for this anomaly. As she diffidently pressed the play icon her suspicions were confirmed. Hello, Esmie, mom here. I just wanted to make sure you remembered about Grandma Little Feather coming over this week, we’re counting on you to help us out with her...ok. Esmerelda plopped her phone down on the desk and shook her head softly. Shit She loved her old granny but this week was already packed with enough frenetic activities, graduation being just week away. She looked down at the calendar icon on her phone, May 23. The count down was on for her erstwhile emancipation from the safe haven status as school girl to erstwhile adult. She had just passed one milestone with her recent 18th birthday which was affirmed by the ridiculously oversized birthday card recently given her by her family which was dutifully signed by all of them. "Mommy, Pappy, Geronimo, and Miguel with all our to Love to Esmerelda on her 18th. You’re a big girl now Esmie! A desktop picture of the five of them at her favorite Tex Mex restaurant had been a featured picture on her PC since the event. It was definitely a time of new beginnings ...and old endings.

Esmeralda staggered out of her room and was immediately greeted by her parents who were sitting in the dining room watching the news on a small portable TV. Two ample bowls of partially eaten oatmeal lay before both of them.

Her dad looked away from the screen and took a disciplined swallow of his physician recommended breakfast cereal. Hey sweetie. Her mom likewise greeted her. Hey honey, you want some of this? Her father turned away from the TV. You want me to make one up for you? Esmeralda shook her head. No thanks, I’m just gonna have a little coffee and grab something on the way to school.

Her father nodded his head. Ok. Her mom, however smiled, Look at her and her coffee drinking, big grownup here. Esmeralda grinned, I’ve been having it over a year where you all been? Her mother grinned slightly, I haven’t seen you having it around here that much.

Esmeralda poured herself a cup from the glass pot percolating on the kitchen counter and sat down by her mother. I usually had it at Starbucks, or that family owned coffee place. Oh yes, replied her mother. Ahh, that place by the skating rink...Back to the grounds...or back to the something.

Back to the Grind, mom, it’s called Back to the Grind. Yes ok. A lot of our customers go there after they eat dinner at our restaurant. I wonder why? Esmie took a satisfying sip then looked at her mom. They like to go for dessert and coffee or tea and the atmosphere.

Her dad turned yet again from his TV news vigil. They don't enjoy the ‘atmosphere’ at our place?

Esmeralda held the cup before taking her next sip. It’s not that...I mean it’s not like they don’t like our place, it’s like a different experience over there. Our place is an ok environment, homey I guess that’s the word. So, what kind of ‘environment’ do they get there? We are just so-so? We have coffee too and our desserts are homemade. Esmie nodded, Yea, that’s just it...it’s homemade, kinda boring. The stuff at The Grind is high end, it's fancy, exotic I guess is the word. Exotic? Her replied her father with a look of slight puzzlement. Esmie smiled Yes more fancy and exotic, not better. And they have artwork and poetry all over the walls.Her father nodded his assent, I see, well to each his own as they say.

Esmie shook her head. Don’t worry about going outta business cus this podunk little town will never lose its taste for normal. She accented the last word to drive home her point. Her father chuckled Ok, I was worried there for a minute, you restored my faith in not being fancy. Esmie slipped a little closer to him as he sat on the couch watching the television. News? She inquired. Yea , I wanted to catch the business report before I leave. Do you want a ride honey?"

Esmie lowered her cup after having taken a long sip.Ah nah...I’ll just take the bus and stop by Mickey Ds for a quick egg sandwich. Her mother chimed in then. That stuff is unhealthy honey, you shouldn’t eat there. Esmie nodded I know mom ...I know...it’s just once in a while ok. Her father shook his head. She can eat here at home or go to our restaurant, but she goes to Macdonald’s. He chuckled again under his breath. Esmie walked to the kitchen to deposit her cup in the sink. What can I say dad, it’s the power of marketing. Her mother followed her to the kitchen. Or maybe a better answer is half your school friends hang out there. Esmerelda grinned  Bingo.

She started walking back to her room when her mother called out to her. Esmie, I forgot to ask you about Romona, your friend in Riverdale. Will you go out there to see her graduate? You want us to help you arrange the trip? Esmeralda nodded, Sure, that would be nice, could you?, Her mother nodded Ok then we’ll book a train ticket for you. Esmeralda frowned slightly, Isn’t that expensive? Wouldn’t a greyhound bus ticket be way cheaper? Her father turned towards her. Trust me, you don’t want a long greyhound bus ride through the Desert. Those damn things have no air conditioning and the type of people who use it aren’t the best sort, if you know what I mean. Esmerelda nodded her head knowingly. That's ok, I know what you mean. We’d be both more comfortable if you took Amtrak, said her mother. Her father nodded in acknowledgment. We’ll book a ticket for you ok. Esmeralda nodded. Thanks so much.

Of course honey, better you’re comfortable and safe. It's a long trip. Esmeralda side-hugged her mother. Love you. Her father who had been distractedly watching the news turned to Esmerelda’s mother. That city council is going through with it! They’re gonna pass that damm food safety law...hell with them! He shook his head disgustedly. "They’re gonna do everything they can to shut down the local farmers market and get them out of here even though everyone wants it. I gotta call Hank Stern,